THE SHORTEST DRAMAS IN THE WORLD

New Zealand Listener, Volume 14, Issue 349, 1 March 1946, Page 16

THE SHORTEST DRAMAS IN THE WORLD

(Written for "The Listener" by

B.

HEYMANN

TRICTLY speaking they are not dramas at all, but only the material for them. They have no dialogue; they are not divided into scenes and-above all -they always lack the last Act. They do not appear on any radio programme; they. always happen out of schedule. Sometimes they consist of a single sentence: "We have been asked to make the following announcement: Will Mr. John O. Blank, believed on a hiking tour with a friend in the Wairarapa district, please communicate with the Wellington Public Hospital at once." That is all. The announcer introduces a musical item, and while we are listening we begin to wonder whether this message will reach Mr. John O. Blank, and why it has been sent.

Perhaps his father has had a heart attack or his mother has met with a street accident. For the next few hours we can’t help thinking occasionally about J.O.B. and imagining how he went away for this hike, lighthearted, with his pack and a tent most likely, never thinking that anything might go wrong at home in the meantime. If he or his friend has not taken a radio set along or the farmer from whom they buy their milk hasn’t heard the announcement, and even if he has, hasn’t had the idea to ask them whether one of them is John O. Blank, he will never know that his father is dangerously ill until it is maybe too late. And then we begin to think of the father or mother and we are sorry for. them because we can well imagine how sad it must be to be ill and not have one’s son around. And, of course, we never hear what happened in the end, and it is left to us to write our own version of the drama and let Mr. Blank get the news

in time, jump on the next train to Wellington, rush to the hospital and find that his mother is much better and not dangerously injured at all, but has kept on asking for John O. and is very happy to see him. SOMETIMES the Shortest Dramas appear like this "Will anybody knowing the whereabouts of Tony, aged three, please communicate with the nearest police station. He has been missing from the home of his parents at 18 Street, Wellington, since 10 o’clock in the morning. He has blue eyes, fair hair, is of sturdy build and was wearing navy blue shorts, a grey flannel shirt, blue socks and brown sandals." Or it may be ".... Mrs. Annié F. , staying with her daughter and son-in-law, Mr. and Mrs. D, M. , of 21 Road, Auckland. Mrs. is 74 years of age; she left her daughter’s home early in the afternoon, and was wearing a dark grey dress, black coat

and hat, and black shoes. Mrs. ’ who was supposed to go for a quick errand to the grocer’s, is believed to be suffering from loss of memory." Or: ",..... Alison , who left home to go to school as usual this morning, but did not return. She is 11 years old, tall for her age, with brown hair and freckles. She was wearing a print frock, red cardigan, no stockings, and black shoes." STRANGE, how the knowledge of a person’s age, the colour of their hair and of the thihgs they wear is sufficient to make you experience a whole family’s anxieties, if all you know apart from that is that they are missing from their homes. We can imagine how Mrs. was hanging out her washing with little Tony playing around, and while she was inside getting the second lot he must have slipped away. He had the habit of going round to the neighbours and when he wasn’t there she went down the road,

and still she was not worried. But when she could not find him anywhere, how frantic she must have got, so that in the end she rang the police, and we got to hear about it. Or Mrs. Annie F. --. There she was living with her married daughter, probably sometimes sad that she did not have a home of her own and enough strength to do real work; perhaps often feeling and complaining that she was "quite a burden." So that, when her daughter started to make a cake straight after lunch and found that she had no baking-powder, Mrs. was only too happy to offer to go to the grocer’s down the street and get it. And the daughter, though she would not have minded going herself, knew how much the mother liked to "be useful" and let her go. In the meantime she began to get her ingredients all prepared. And when the things were all set out on the table and Mrs. was not back as she should have been, the daughter began to get restless; but then she thought "most likely she has met somebody and has had a little chat" and she started doing something else and got so absorbed in it that quite some time elapsed before she realised that her mother had been away for more than two hours. Then she would go out and inquire at the grocer’s and be told that Mrs. had been in and had bought the baking-powder, but that was quite some time ago and she had left immediately. Then the chasing through the neighbourhood would begin. ‘without success, and after a while her daughter would have to go home because the children were due back from school and the dinner had to be got ready: And only after her husband had come home from work, could one of them go and inform the police. Worst of all is the stdry of little Alison with the freckles. She left home before

nine in the morning; she may be one of those who dawdle around after school or go and visit a friend; so it may be four o’clock or later before it is noticed that she is missing. What can have happened in all those hours? It is too late to find out from the school whether she has been there at all; something may have happened on her way to school. .... Oh no, one would have heard of an accident by now. ..." So the agonised parents begin hunting up school friends or a teacher, and when they learn that their little girl has been to school they try to find out where and with whom she has been seen last. Or perhaps they are the kind of parents who threaten their children with what will happen to them if they bring a bad report. And when they hear that there has been a report that day and that Alison’s was not very good they will not only be worried and frightened, but torture themselves with self-reproaches. Until... ES, we never know the sequence of events after this "until" .... The last act in the Shortest Dramas is always | missing. Since so many people on so many occasions make so many suggestions to the National Broadcasting Service I think I might be allowed to make just one: Could the Stations announce the missing Acts in the Shortest Dramas, at least when they provide a happy ending? "Mr. and Mrs. wish to inform those who took an interest in the disappearance of their mother (and mother-in-law), Mrs. Annie F. , that she returned safely to her home late in the evening. She had decided, on the spur of the moment, to go to the pictures, and on coming out had forgotten her address. She was recognised by a kind young man who took her to her home in a taxi."

Or: "We are happy to announce that little Tony was found by a local police constable, early in the afternoon. He was sound asleep in a paddock where, according to his somewhat muddled statement, he had gone to find "Little Boy Blue and his horn." His brown sandal shoes were muddy, and there was a tear in. his navy blue pants. But not a hair on his (fair) head was touched." Wouldn’t that be nice?